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Who: Jim Kirk and anyone and everyone who has business at the Hellsing guild hall today
What: Jim tries to honor a fallen comrade by carrying on his legacy. His "legacy".
Where: The Hellsing guild hall and the back forty.
When: This afternoon.
Notes: Dear Hellsing, please enjoy Dean Winchester's trolling from beyond the grave. Also, Jim is approachable at any stage of these proceedings, just specify where you're dropping in on his work.
Warnings: Toilet water, ew.

Stardate 0.114 (relative to Jim's arrival in Baedal)

The city's only Starfleet captain reports to the Hellsing guild hall, to both honor a lost colleague and to try to fill in. Not that he can, not in the ways that count. But something the man once showed him, offhand, makes him think he can contribute a little.

Not that he'll admit it to anyone but Jim has felt, lately, that he should be doing more to contribute. He still has his duty, above all, to Starfleet and to his crew (even if his crew here consists of one other person), but the things he's experienced and seen since joining Hellsing make him feel like a laissez-faire, roll-in-only-on-my-terms attitude is not the most helpful thing anymore.

Today, that shift in attitude and that wanting to help have him making many, many trips through the guild hall. First, he vanishes into an out-of-the-way men's bathroom on the second floor, one that he knows isn't used as frequently as the ones on the ground floor. He surveys both the stalls--the urinals are likely useless for what he needs to do--and then he heads to a supply closet. He returns to the bathroom with rubber gloves, scouring powder with bleach, and some sponges, and he gives both toilets the scrubbing of their lives. By the time he's done, you could eat out of them, the bowls, the insides of the tanks, everything.

...The cleaning wasn't in his brief bit of training for this task, but Captain Kirk has the best CMO in the fleet, and the best CMO in the fleet blows five gaskets at the idea of doing anything unsanitary, especially when there's a chance of communicating infection or contamination. And Jim knows better than to make McCoy blow five gaskets at once.

Once everything is clean, he flushes both toilets a few more times for good measure. He leaves again, returning this time with a pair of large buckets he's liberated from a closet somewhere, and these are given a good scrubbing too. It takes him a while to work out a system for carting the water out, but a few minutes' thinking, a trip to Medical to liberate some plastic tubing, and a test run leave him satisfied he can do this.

Well. That he can do that part. The rest... here's hoping.

He gives both toilets another flush. He pulls a rosary and a scrap of paper out of the pocket of his jeans. The rosary goes into the tank, floating on the water as he reads the words scrawled on the paper.

Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christ: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculum per ignem.

Deus, qui ad salutem humani generis maxima quæque sacramenta in aquarum substantia condidisti: adesto propitius invocationibus nostris, et elemento huic, multimodis purificationibus præparato, virtutem tuæ benedictionis infunde; ut creatura tua, mysteriis tuis serviens, ad abigendos dæmones morbosque pellendos divinæ gratiæ sumat effectum; ut quidquid in domibus vel in locis fidelium hæc unda resperserit careat omni immunditia, liberetur a noxa. Non illic resideat spiritus pestilens, non aura corrumpens: discedant omnes insidiæ latentis inimici; et si quid est quod aut incolumitati habitantium invidet aut quieti, aspersione hujus aquæ effugiat: ut salubritas, per invocationem sancti tui nominis expetita, ab omnibus sit impugnationibus defensa. Per Dominum, amen.

He feels a little silly as he repeats the process with the second tank of water. And then it's time to siphon water into buckets with the plastic tubing; one end goes in the tank and he sucks briefly on the other end--thank God he scrubbed everything first--to get the water flowing out.

He ferries the water out of the bathroom, down the stairs, across the reception area, out the front door, and across the grounds, to the irrigation barrels where the tobacco is grown. One load down, a few more to go. He returns to the hall to repeat the process; as he walks through reception he realizes he's trailed water behind him. He leaves the buckets by the stairs and he returns to the supply closet, coming back with a mop. He mops up all the water left in his wake and then swiftly runs a towel along that path, just in case.

...Look, it wouldn't do to have his superiors and/or Dr. McCoy wanting his head because someone slipped and fell in the guild hall.

He keeps at this for most of the afternoon, blessing water in the bathroom, carrying it out to the tobacco field, mopping up any mess when he returns.

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"...Oh."

He's regained a bit more of his composure, and as he lets the tube fall into the bucket he offers a friendly smile. "It's for the tobacco gardens. Holy water. Mr. Winchester..."

His smile dims a few degrees, respect tinged with sadness. "He explained the whole thing to me once. I hope I'm not overstepping bounds. I just wanted to make sure this was seen to."

Hellboy's eyes narrow for a few moments, and then he raises one stump-laden brow. "Did he demonstrate it with the toilet, or is that your own innovation?"

Despite having seen Dean bless holy water once before, not in a bathroom, he wouldn't put it past Dean to do this to someone when teaching them. Kirk can rest easy that Hellboy doesn't look offended; indeed, he appears to be rather bemused, and is trying to keep just how much so from showing.

"No, he demonstrated."

Pause.

"I mean, he didn't demonstrate, he didn't drag me to a toilet, but he explained how it's done, and he gave me what I needed." Jim holds up the slip of paper and the damp rosary. "He told me he did it all the time, that it saved his ass in a jail cell once."

And he's a good study. The Academy drilled that into him. He has not, however, twigged to the fact that holy water can be made out of water in general, not just water in toilets. He's new to this, clearly.

A jail cell. Of course. Hellboy can't help it. What starts as a single chuckle quickly escalates into full-scale laughter. When his mirth passes a few moments later, he considers breaking the news that he's seen Dean bless water outside of a bathroom. He can't quite bring himself to do it, though, and instead just shakes his head.

"I think you're doing just fine. Carry on, Mr. Kirk. Don't let me keep you."

It's a subtle shift in his expression, but the confusion registers all the same, even as Jim tries to keep his "friendly and confident" face on. He glances down at the buckets, then back up at Hellboy, trying to figure out what the hell is so funny.

"Are you sure? Because I'm open to suggestions."

He nearly tries to insist that no, really, everything was perfect, because he doesn't want anything to ruin the continuation of this cosmic joke. He's not really sure he could sell it without overselling it, though, and besides, there's one bit of the process he's observed so far that could be improved on without affecting the important (read: toilet) parts.

"Well, you may want to work on how you get the water outside, so you don't spill it all over. I'm not sure what we've got around here that'd help with that, but you seem like an enterprising young man, I'm sure you'll manage."

"Yeah." Jim glances down at the buckets, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I was thinking a hose would be better, but I'm not sure we've got one that will reach from here to the garden. Maybe from the one in the lobby to somewhere outside, but I don't want to tie up the most-used bathroom."

Something tells Jim that this is not what was so funny. Something's nagging at him that he's not in on some joke, but he's busy trying to carry out the duties of a dead man, and accusing one of the dead man's coworkers and possibly friends is not conducive to the situation.

"Is the tobacco always irrigated with holy water? Or just sometimes?"

"Or maybe just enclosed containers. A tank or even just some bottles."

By now, the giddiness has passed, Hellboy's enjoyment of the joke now faded into a small, private matter. He strokes at his chin briefly as he considers Kirk's question, and then he shrugs.

"Not sure, really. Aside from having done some purification work on the soil, I'm not really involved in the farming process."

"Purification work on the soil?" Jim leans against the wall, eyebrows raised. "Is that some kind of mechanical process--"

With which he'd be familiar, as he was raised on a farm--

"--or is it a supernatural process, like this holy water?"

He shakes his head, then fishes the amulets from his belt. "A prayer in Old Lemurian. It's similar to a blessing, but more about protection from the horrors of the great beyond than any sort of holy might."

Jim nods, taking that in. "Everything helps, I'm sure," he says. "And that's the part of the job I'm still getting caught up on. Everything that isn't battle tactics, diplomacy, and punching people in the face as needed."

"Never underestimate the usefulness of face-punching. Anyway, you seem to be doing fine. Don't worry too much if there's something you can't pick up, though. I mean, I sure as hell can't bless holy water, and I'm pretty sure that's not just because, uh, you know." In his faltering, Hellboy gestures vaguely at his overall appearance, refusing as usual to say the d-word. "We all have our specialties."

Jim nods; he's not going to say anything about Hellboy's appearance or even ask. The guy's here, working at his side, and that's good enough for him.

"Yeah, well. I'm not even sure this is all working," Jim admits. "Mr. Winchester gave me all the necessary tools but this is my first attempt."

"Hm." Hellboy strokes his chin in thought at that. "There's got to be some way to test it." After a moment, he adds, "Other than throwing some in a vampire's face and watching what happens."

Yes, it occurred to him, and yes, he did at least consider it. Hellboy is generally pretty open-minded, but thanks to past experience, he's still a little vampire-ist.

Jim's eyebrows go up, mildly surprised. "So that's not all just legends, then," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "Holy water really does work on vampires?"

The way he takes to this conversation, you wouldn't guess that just a month or two ago this was a guy who thought vampires so much old-time superstition.

"Mm," he says noncommittally. Having decided that he's definitely progressed to having a conversation, he made the noise more to buy him time than anything else, as he gets a cigarette and a wooden match out of a silvered case in his belt. He strikes the match off of his Right Hand and lights the cigarette while leaning against the sink, simultaneously feeling like an academic about to lecture and like a kid smoking in the boys' room.

"Well, for one thing, the lore's not always entirely self-consistent. For another, we've got a mix of vampires from different worlds, some of which have different rules from others. There're individual differences, too: Alucard, for example, is powerful enough he could probably drink the stuff without caring. Holy water, wooden stakes, silver, sunlight... Most vampires will have problems with some of them, but which ones are affected by which can be a bit of a crap shoot."

Jim nods, taking that all in. "So. Different universes, different kinds of vampires, and only some are affected by holy water. Gotcha."

It occurs to him that he should have checked, maybe, if there were vampires or other beings susceptible to holy water before he went traipsing all over the lobby with it. Definitely time to rig up a hose or something, before he caused any problems.

"Would the best approach, then, in the field, be to start with one and move on to the next thing that might affect them if the first doesn't work? Or is there a standard try-this-first?"

"The problem with vampires," he says, blowing some smoke out his nose on the exhale of a sigh, "is that you don't really get many chances after your first try falls through. The best approach, as much as I'm not especially fond of it, is to research the target before going after him. Watch his movements and pick up any clues about his behavior. Try to dig up some lore connecting him to what kind of vampire he is and learn his weaknesses that way."

He pauses for a moment, then shrugs the shrug of acknowledging that sometimes that doesn't work. "All else fails, though? You know where he lives and the killing needs to stop now? Go in a group. Go when the sun is up and there's the best chance he's sleeping or otherwise weakened. Try the wooden stake first. If something goes wrong, you can try fire or cutting his head off, but mostly worry about keeping him at bay enough so you can run away. Seriously, there's no being a hero when a vamp hunt goes to crap."

Hellboy may possibly have had a vamp hunt or two go to crap over the years.

Jim's only had the one vampire incident--so far--but he feels like it went to crap because he couldn't bring all his men and women out there in the field home. He doesn't want a repeat of that, should there be a "next time".

"I'll keep all of that in mind, thank you. Guess it wouldn't hurt for me to brush up on the lore more too."

It's a good tactical position, after all, being knowledgeable. Jim is determined to learn as much as he can so he's not caught quite so unawares in the field anymore.

"Are the vampires generally a big problem? I don't recall much before the blood incident, but I haven't been here that long. I arrived right in the middle of the giant ants."

As far as Hellboy was concerned, that wasn't so much a vamp hunt as riot control with fangs. There wasn't much hope of it going well anyway.

He shakes his head. "No, nothing even close to that. Vampires who insist on making a mess are pretty rare, and half the time they get handled by their own before it even gets to us. Same for ghouls and other types of cruorvores." He snorts, disgusted. "The blood riot was a frame job. Anti-cru posters conveniently went up just as the supply of humane alternatives got restricted. Normal folks get scared, cruorvores get desperate. Taint the first big new shipment, and boom! Big trouble."

"Yeah, I noticed all the propaganda." Jim frowns. "Definitely seemed to me that people were purposely trying to stir up trouble, dressing it up as concern. And the timing was suspicious."

He's quiet a moment, deep in thought. "What I want to know is, who framed them. And to what end?"

"Exactly." He's pleased to see that Kirk gets it. "Check the active case file on 'Candlelighters.' They've been behind some of the other crap we've dealt with, too. They're definitely anti-xenian, and depending on who you talk to, seem to either want to seize power or destroy the city." He pauses to take a quick puff from his cigarette, then shrugs and adds, "Or both, I suppose."

Jim nods. "I'll look into that. Thanks." There was always something, wasn't there? Someone wanting to grab power, someone wanting to tear things down.

...But that raised another question. "What would they gain, I wonder, by destroying the city?"

Hellboy chuckles. "If you have to ask, you apparently haven't run into enough of the type. Some are nihilists, hate the world and want everyone to get out, them included. Most of the others assume they'll be able to survive the end somehow, either as a loyal servant of whatever horror they worship or by being the last one standing to rule whatever's left. Any way you slice it, it's not really good for anyone."

Jim sighs. "I guess I'm always hoping there's an answer besides 'being in power' or 'being in favor' or, god help us, 'because I can'." He unfolds his arms, one hand raising for a moment to his temple to sketch out a brief, vague salute. "But I'll read the files. Maybe do some digging around if I can. Thanks for the heads-up."

"Live in hope. Sometimes it's all we got." He returns the salute, so loosely that it's apparent he's never had to do it for real. "No problem. Anyway, I should get back to my own work. I'll leave you to this. Good luck."

"I'll try."

He nods, a smile turning his lips. "Thanks, man. Good meeting you. I'm sure we'll see each other around."

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